Father's Tale
by Autumdragon
Summary: "Merlin. What was your Father like?" There was no denying the crack in Merlin's voice. Arthur was stunned when a wave of realization and dread washed over him. oneshot.


**Hey all. **

**Because one of the most amazing Merlin authors ever commented on my previous Merlin story, I decided to post another one. I love writing angst. I sometimes have problems with it – but hopefully this one will develop as nicely as the other one. **

Something was troubling King Arthur. That was obvious to Merlin as the silence got a good chokehold over the two. Merlin was busy; polishing the armor Arthur had dumped in his lap. Yet he polished absentmindedly, his thoughts flurrying in a whirlwind of flashbacks, regrets, guilt… the usual nowadays.

"Merlin?" Arthur started. Merlin stopped running the cloth over his helmet and looked up. "Can I ask you something?"

Merlin nodded. "'Course, Arthur. What is it?"

Arthur paused momentarily, before switching positions on his bed to a cross-legged sit. "What do you remember about your father?"

The question stopped Merlin dead in his tracks. He abruptly dropped the cloth in his hands and the helmet came tumbling and crashing to the floor, receiving a loud pang that broke the poignant silence.

"He – uh…" Merlin tried to shrug off the question. "Arthur – I should really continue with my work."

"Oh please, _Mer_lin! Just use magic. What kind of warlock are you?"

Merlin sighed. He couldn't get out of this. He muttered a few words and with a flash of golden eyes, the armor was polishing itself.

"Tell me." Arthur said lightly, as though they were merely gossiping. Yet Merlin couldn't be angry. He knew Arthur was completely unawares to the situation that had broken Merlin's heart past the point of healing. It was an order, Arthur's asking, but a friendlier one. Merlin sat on the bed beside him; his shoulders slouched in foul remembrance. Cold nostalgia.

"He, uh – was really brave, I suppose." Merlin tried to remain apathetic. Yet he couldn't help but notice the quiver that came heavier and heavier as each word left his trembling mouth. Arthur nodded mutely before Merlin fixed his gaze onto his King. "Why do you ask?"

"I – uh, had a dream. About my mother – I was just wondering."

It was Merlin's turn to nod. He nudged Arthur affectionately and offered a meek smile. He held their comfort in a special place in his heart. Five years ago, Arthur would have never dared tell his manservant what he had dreamt about.

"Well," Merlin offered, leaning his body into Arthur to attempt some sort of console. "You know she was beautiful. And kind." He said this almost fatherly. Arthur swayed his head up and down.

"Very beautiful." He said faintly. "That I know."

Merlin smiled before he stood up, about to return to his nightly chores.

"Merlin?"

"Mmm.."

"What's the last thing you remember about your father?"

Merlin's stomach lurched and a lump rolled its way into his throat. "Oh – " His voice cracked. "You don't want to hear that."

"Of course I do, idiot. I wouldn't have asked."

Merlin closed his eyes. Arthur would know if he was lying. "He uh – died. In my arms."

It was silent. He could practically feel the King's shocked gaze on his back.

"God, Merlin. I-I'm so-"

Merlin offered a terrible impression of a nonchalant laugh. "It's nothing." He squeaked.

The silence took hold of them once again, and Merlin almost wanted to jump out of the window and cry all the way to the ground. He could hear Arthur shifting as he took over the job, once more, of polishing. Merlin sat on the floor, his back to his King; his shoulders slumped in agonizing defeat. While it would take a moment, he knew Arthur would push the envelope.

"What did he say? Before- he…"

A sob took its place before his sentence started, and Merlin spoke loudly, trying to cover up his traitorous sadness. "N-Nothing."

"Merlin…" Softer now. Sympathetic. Longing to comfort. Merlin couldn't resist. A part of him wanted to tell him everything. His secret was out – why not? Yet Merlin couldn't be the one held responsible for putting so many problems onto Arthur's shoulders. Every day Merlin walked with dragging feet and a heavy heart. He couldn't bear witness to the same thing happening to Arthur.

"He uh – " Sob. "He told me to aim for the right side of the dragon – for that's where his heart lay. Not the left."

There was no denying the crack in Merlin's voice. Arthur was stunned for the second time when the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He felt a wave of dread wash over him.

Arthur stood up and walked around Merlin until he reached the tear-stained face. He roughly pulled Merlin to his feet and placed his arms around his shoulders into a comforting hug.

He had no idea.

And Merlin cried.

And cried…

And cried…

* * *

**I had to repost this because of the "brace" instead of "brave" in the story - it was driving me insane. I'm thinking, though, of making this a two or three shot, if you'd like. Let me know, yeah?**


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